


cats and dogs

by CivilBores



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Crushes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, aunt may knows about spider-man, mentions of liz, michelle is mj, ned is the wingman, peters a loser, post-Homecoming, really light, so much shenanigans, this is basically like a romcom, what are emotions, you know what why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CivilBores/pseuds/CivilBores
Summary: “You can not tell anyone,” Peter hisses. “This is, like, classified information. You have to guard this secret with your life.”“I kept Spider-Man a secret,” Ned says. “It shouldn’t be too hard-”“No, this is worse,” Peter warns. “Way worse than Spider-Man.”—The quickest way to a girl's heart is with secret identities.





	1. an introduction

A hand slams into the locker next to Peter’s with a loud, echoing bang that draws the attention of all the surrounding students. He flinches and jumps away, looking up.

“Ned’s looking for you,” MJ says, watching him with her usual lazy yet intimate stare. It’s one of the things that’s so interesting about her- how intense her eyes are. And dark, they’re very dark. And pretty. Wait-

Peter bites hard on his lip. “Oh,” he manages in a small voice.

“Yeah, because you ditched again,” she says. “Loser. Where do you even go during the school day? Loser Trek Expo?”

“That’s not a thing,” Peter tells her, a response to which she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t really care.” MJ squints her eyes at him and Peter instantly feels like he’s under a microscope, being observed at every edge- “Your eye is all bruised up, you know.”

“Oh- it is-?” Peter’s hand flies to his face and his fingers gingerly probe at the sensitive skin around his right eye. Sure enough, it’s sore and hurts when he presses on it, drawing a wince from him.

When he’s in the heat of battle, everything becomes a blur. He’s only vaguely aware of the dizziness he feels when he takes a hit, but the adrenaline washes over the majority of it. Typically, he mostly just feels numb.

It’s once he’s back into his everyday school uniform, switched back to “Peter Parker Mode”(as Ned likes to call it) when he actually starts to remember the effects of the fight. Or, more accurately- he starts to _feel_ the effects.

“What happened? Did someone punch you?” MJ asks intensely. She leans closer to him, her eyes calculating. Peter’s face heats up- she’s so close to him that he can feel her soft, hot exhale of breath on his face.

“I don’t care,” she says matter-of-factly. “But still.”

“I hit my face on the stairs,” Peter says lamely. It’s the only thing he can think of at the moment.

MJ’s eyes scan his face as if she has a built-in lie detector. Honestly, Peter wouldn’t be surprised. She takes a small step back, her expression the same as it was before.

“You fall down the stairs like five times every week,” MJ states plainly.

“I’m… you know me. I’m a- a clumsy- dude,” Peter stammers out.

MJ looks him up and down. She’s still wearing the same stark, stony expression.

She walks away without saying anything.

Peter lets out a huff of breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, then shoves the remainder of his books into his locker. He closes it tight and takes a breath.

For some reason that seems to happen a lot when MJ’s around. He forgets to breathe.

It’s probably just because she’s so intimidating. Even though they’re friends now and she even _admitted_ it, she’s intimidating.

Peter sighs, running a hand through his hair and walking off down the hallway, tugging absently at his backpack straps.

  
-

  
“Your bed is so comfy,” Ned sighs, spreading his arms in the sheets.

Peter makes a face. “Dude,” he says. “Why are you always at my house?”

“Don’t act like that,” Ned says, glowering. “You _know_ your room is the best place for building Death Stars.”

“That’s definitely arguable. It’s not even possible to measure that.”

“Well, you’ve got cool stuff in your room, too,” Ned points out.

“Yeah? Like what?”

Ned’s eyes light up. He grins, lifts Peter’s pillow, and throws Spider-Man’s mask at him.

Peter rolls his eyes and catches it mid-air. “You’re the worst,” he says, tossing it carelessly into his closet.

Ned bounces back onto Peter’s bed. “I don’t know why you’re not on patrol right now.”

“I already told you,” Peter says. “I was out earlier today.”

Peter absent-mindedly picks up a ballpoint pen from his desk. He taps it against the wood almost nervously. “Plus,” he says, “May told me she wants me to take a break from Spider-Manning today. She said it’s good for development.”

“‘ _Development_ ’?” Ned snickers. “Of what? If I were you, I’d never take any breaks.”

Peter glances back at him and offers a small smile. His eyebrows furrow when he sees Ned.

“What’re you _doing_?” Peter asks incredulously.

“What?” Ned’s making bed angels on the mattress.

“You should probably stop doing that before it gets-”

Peter stops mid-sentence, the last word echoing in his mind and failing to leave his lips.

MJ’s voice rings in Peter’s head- “ _Too late. You guys are losers.”_

“-at? Peter, what were you saying? Finish your sentence.”

Peter isn’t thinking. Peter can’t really think at all, can’t focus. He keeps hearing MJ’s voice, saying his name, saying…. anything, saying everything.

He thinks about the way the sun looks on her skin, the way her laugh sounds when she snorts into her palm, the way she brushes her bangs to the side when she sketches, the way she folds the corner of her book page in the exact same sized triangle every single time she stops reading-

In Peter’s hand, the ballpoint pen shatters. The plastic falls in shards to the wooden desk and the ink splashes onto Peter’s bare skin, wet and cold.

“Peter!”

Peter jerks his head up. Ned is watching him with huge eyes.

“Um,” Peter says. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Ned says flatly. “You totally just spaced out on me right now.”

“Did I?”

“You crushed a pen in your bare hand,” Ned says.

Peter stares at the remnants of the pen that are lying on the desk, broken plastic and a spring.

The bedroom door opens. Peter glances up- there’s a faint, distant tingle at the back of his skull and his hand lashes out, snatching up a towel from mid-air. He looks up at the thrower.

May’s standing in the doorway, her hair in a braid and a hand resting on the side of the door. She’s staring at him through her wide lensed glasses.

“Again?” she says. “I should just buy you those 20-pack ballpoint pens at the rate you’re going through them. Clean yourself up, okay?”

“Thanks, May,” Peter says meekly, mopping up the ink with the towel.

“Hi, Ned,” May says with a wave. Ned waves back eagerly, instantly smiling wide. May leaves and closes the door.

“That’s not the first time?” Ned cackles as soon as May is gone.

“No,” Peter mutters. He shoves the towel into the corner of his desk.

“How many other times has it happened?”

“I dunno, like….” Peter lifts the sleeve of his sweater to his face and bites at the hem. “Six, maybe?”

“ _Six_?!” Ned says with a wheeze. “Oh my god- that’s too much, Peter. How- how do you even manage….?”

“It just happens when I get nervous!” Peter says, feeling suddenly defensive. “Or-”

He falters a bit, gnawing anxiously at his sweater sleeve. His eyes fall to Ned’s feet.

“Or when I...think…. about things.”

Ned’s eyes grow huge. “Oh my god. Like- like a mental orgasm-”

“Ew, no! That’s nasty- no!” Peter exclaims.

“Then what were you thinking about?”

Peter pauses for a moment.

Ned’s eyes are rapidly searching his face.

“You can not tell _anyone_ ,” Peter hisses. “This is, like, classified information. You have to guard this secret with your _life_.”

“I kept Spider-Man a secret,” Ned says. “It shouldn’t be too hard-”

“No, this is worse,” Peter warns. “Way worse than Spider-Man.”

Ned blinks, frowning. “Um… okay. What- what is it…?”

Peter glances around, as if anyone would be watching. He stares Ned in the eye and leans closer to him from his swivel chair.

“I- I think I _like_ MJ.”

“ _What_?!” Ned screams.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Peter gasps. “Dude, I just told you-”

“No way,” Ned says, laughing. “Oh my god, no way, no way- you- you have a crush on _Michelle_ -”

“Okay, first of all, don’t call it a ‘crush’!” Peter cries. “That’s literally the worst word anyone created ever. I do not have a ‘crush’ on her, I just- I just might like her more than a friend. And secondly, she prefers MJ.”

“You’re crushing on Michelle,” Ned says, completely disregarding Peter’s entire previous statement. “You’re crushing on her _hard_.”

Peter covers his eyes with his hands and groans. “ _Ned_ ,” he says. “Please, you can’t tell anyone. For my sake. Okay? Promise.”

There’s a beat of awful silence that makes Peter want to bang his head on his desk. Finally, Ned speaks.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “Okay, I promise.”

  
-

  
“So, Michelle, what do you think of Spider-Man?” Ned asks the next day at lunch.

Peter kicks him in the shins hard. Ned flinches, but MJ doesn’t look up. Peter shoots Ned an ice-cold glare that screams, _What the fuck?!_

MJ is halfway through her meal, a cafeteria sandwich, or a dish she likes to call “Salad With Really Big Croutons”. (In order to prepare said dish, one has to eat the slices of bread first, then proceed to finish the rest of the sandwich with a fork.) She stabs her fork into her slice of lettuce and looks up.

“I told you to call me MJ, fuckwad,” she says eloquently, and takes a bite of lettuce.

“MJ. Whatever. What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“I don’t know. He’s fine, I guess.”

 _Leave it at that,_ Peter says in his head silently. He’s staring intensely at Ned, trying to send the message to him through brain waves. _Please, please just leave it at that._

“Isn’t he really hot?” Ned says. “Like, have you seen his ass? I mean, wow.”

Peter chokes on a sip of water. He wants to curl up under the lunch tables and die on the cafeteria tiles.

MJ squints at Ned. “Are you gay for Spider-Man or something?”

“What?!” Ned exclaims. “What- no, no I’m not!”

“Well, I just assumed, because I don’t think hetero guys are into checking out other dudes’ butts and all.” MJ shrugs. “But whatever. You do you.”

“I am not gay for Spider-Man,” Ned protests. “But- what about you? Are you… y’know. Hetero for Spider-Man?”

MJ frowns and shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never even talked to him.”

“If he _did_ talk to you, I think you’d like him-”

“Maybe you should just _drop it_ ,” Peter forces out. “Because not everybody is obsessed with Spider-Man like you seem to think.

“Wow.” MJ raises her eyebrows and shoves a tomato in her mouth. “So one of you is helplessly in love with this dude, and the other hates him with a burning passion. That could be a novel or something.”

She stands up and takes her tray with her, walking away. Peter instantly elbows Ned in the ribs hard.

“What the hell!” Peter demands.

“What?!”

“I told you not to say anything!!”

“I _didn’t_ ,” Ned says, raising his eyebrows. “I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about Spider-Man. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Dude, don't you remember Liz? She had a crush on _Spider-Man_. Not you. All the girls at our school like Spider-Man, not you- no offense. Haven’t you noticed the pattern here? If you can get Michelle to like you as Spider-Man, when she finds out you are him she’ll like you too.”

Peter opens his mouth to argue, then stops, pondering Ned’s idea.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Peter admits.

The corner of Ned’s mouth quirks up into a half-smile.

  
-

  
“Just be cool,” Spider-Man whispers to himself.

“Your temperature is a contradictory 99.1 degrees Fahrenheit,” Karen informs him. “That’s not considered cool for most.”

“No, no, Karen,” Spider-Man mutters. “It’s not- I’m trying to just… stay calm, you know? Be… charming, I guess.”

“You are charming, Peter,” Karen chirps.

“No, I’m not-”

“You’re plenty charming to me.”

“Oh- well, thank you, Karen. But I’m trying to be even more charming than usual.”

“For what reason?”

“There’s- there’s this girl….that I like,” Spider-Man whispers.

“Liz?” Karen asks.

“No, no, not Liz. She’s over there.”

He turns his head to the side. MJ is standing under a tree, scowling up into it. This is the perfect chance for him to just… talk to her.

“Her name’s MJ, and she’s- she’s nothing like Liz. She’s one of my best friends,” he says.

“It’s easy to fall in love with close friends, Peter. You shouldn’t feel intimidated.”

“I know.” Spider-Man takes a breath. “I _shouldn’t_.”

“You seem to enjoy using your superhero identity to woo over girls,” Karen notes with a stifled giggle. Peter rolls his eyes under his mask.

He looks back at MJ.

Spider-Man wants to run up to her more than anything, to make a few jokes and have a lengthy conversation with her. Peter Parker wants to turn on his heel and sprint in the other direction.

Peter thinks back to Liz’s party, when he didn’t talk to Liz. How he completely ignored her, ran away from her every time...

He cannot let that happen again. He will not.

“You got this,” he mumbles to himself. “You got this, Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man drops to the ground and walks towards MJ. She looks up and watches him as he approaches her.

“Hey,” Spider-Man says. “What’re you doing here?”

“Tree-watching,” MJ says. “It’s one of my favorite hobbies.”

“No way, me too.”

MJ glances at him, her eyes lighting up just slightly, and Spider-Man feels a rush of pride at this. She’s probably not used to hearing her sarcasm mirrored so easily. Peter Parker would’ve frozen up around her, flustered, stuttering out some dumbass response; Spider-Man can counter humor in an instant.

“There’s a dog stuck in that tree,” she tells him.

“A dog?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Spider-Man easily scales the tree. It’s thick and has a lot of branches, and is fairly tall for a neighborhood tree.

At the top, a small brown cat is curled around one of the branches.

Spider-Man stifles a laugh and eases the kitten into his arms. The cat is so still it’s almost as if it’s sleeping. He jumps back down to the ground, landing lightly on his toes.

“Here you go, miss,” he says. “But just for the record, I’m pretty sure that’s a cat.”

He hands MJ the cat, and she takes it, stroking behind its ears. “No, it’s a dog,” she says. “Just a really weird-looking dog.”

“It’s a cat,” Karen says.

“Still a cat,” he tells MJ.

“That’s racist.” MJ puts the cat back down on the sidewalk and shoos it away with a gentle nudge of her boot.

“Don’t worry, Peter. It’s a cat and you’re not racist,” Karen tells him.

“You know, if you let it wander off like that it’ll probably just climb another tree,” Spider-Man says.

“Awesome.” MJ holds up a thumb. “I support dog gymnastics 100%.”

Spider-Man laughs. “Then that takes away the whole point of me being here.”

“Well, I did want to talk to you,” MJ says.

“...Really?”

“Yeah. I wanted to see what kind of guy you were.” MJ brushes her bangs from her face. “My friend’s kinda gay for you, so I just wanted to make sure you’re good enough for him.”

“Oh, really.” Spider-Man can’t help but smile at her- he’s glad he has his mask on. “What’s the verdict?”

“I think I’ll let him go for you,” MJ says. “Just a warning, though, he’s kind of a low standard to begin with.”

Spider-Man laughs.

“It’s- it’s MJ, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, MJ. I’m Spider-Man.”

He extends his hand to her. She stares at his hand for a moment before decidedly shoving her hands into her pockets. Spider-Man can deal with that. He simply draws his hand back and pretends it didn’t happen.

It’s a start. They had an introduction.

MJ turns around and walks down the street without saying another word to him. Spider-Man watches after her, his presence gentle.

It’s like a new beginning. A chance to start over with her and be a person who she can fall in love with for once.

Peter’ll take it. Spider-Man can handle things.


	2. apparently, scarves are in now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter can’t help but tell himself all of this is useless. Trying to pretend he’s something other than this. MJ is so snarky and beautiful and witty and perfect, and he’s… he’s just himself.
> 
> He has to be better. He wishes he was just better.

Spider-Man plunks onto a streetlamp, kicking his legs out. “Hey, Karen, what time is it?”

“It’s 2:14 P.M.,” Karen tells him.

“Awesome. That means the school day's almost over.”

“Are you waiting for MJ?” Karen asks.

“No. Maybe. Yeah. A little.” Spider-Man crosses his legs.

“Why didn’t you go to school if you wanted to see her?”

“I-” Spider-Man pauses. Presses his lips together. “I… Because. Because at school, I’m- I’m just me. And that’s not… that’s not enough.”

“How do you know it’s not enough if you don’t ask her?”

“I don’t need to ask her! I’m pretty sure there’s not a single girl on the planet who likes _just_ me. Plus, she calls me a loser like 24/7.”

Karen falls silent for a moment before making a small noise of dissatisfaction. “You shouldn’t ditch school, Peter,” she says. “You’re too smart to be a high school dropout.”

“Seriously, I don’t even know how your programming works,” Spider-Man mutters. “Did Mr. Stark tell you to say that or something? Wow.”

“He programmed me to have artificial intelligence,” Karen says. “And anyone who’s intelligent at all would never drop out of school with a 5.0 GPA.”

“I’m not _dropping out,_ ” Spider-Man protests. “I’m just- I don’t really wanna be at school and have to see MJ every single day until I get things figured out.”

“By figured out, you mean until she falls in love with you?”

Spider-Man fumbles with his thumbs for a moment. “I mean, it sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“It’s not stupid,” Karen says. “I just think it would be better if you went to school. The more you hang out with her, the more she’ll like you.”

“No,” Spider-Man says softly. “Not… not for me.”

It’s different for him. The more people see of him, the less they want to see of him. He’s got that negative effect on people.

Spider-Man thinks about the ludicrousy of even trying to ask her out as Peter Parker. Asking any girl out as Peter Parker. It just doesn’t make any sense in any way. It’s unthinkable.

He sighs softly, staring out into the gray-blue sky and wonders how long he can hide like this from his other life.

Karen interrupts his thoughts with a burst of static. “Incoming call from Ned Leeds.”

“Accept-”

“ _Peter, you ditched again?!!_ ” shrills Ned’s voice on the other line.

Peter makes an embarrassingly loud noise of alarm, nearly falling off of the streetlamp. “Oh my god-!”

“ _You ditched again?!!_ ” Ned repeats, his voice no quieter than it was the first time.

“Yes!” Peter exclaims, his voice rising in volume to meet Ned’s. “Yes, okay? God!”

“ _You didn’t even tell me!_ ” Ned says around a thick tone of voice. “ _I called you all day and you kept declining. Not cool, man.”_

Spider-Man tilts his head a little, frowning and narrowing his eyes- “Are you… are you _pouting_?”

“ _No_ ,” Ned says. His voice is still muffled, strained.

“You’re definitely pouting,” Spider-Man says. “Dude, why are you pouting?”

“ _I’m not_!” Ned protests. “ _I just- really, Peter, you gotta tell me when you ditch. Every time you leave I-”_

Ned’s voice lowers remarkably, and he whispers, “ _I have to hang out with Michelle. Like, all day.”_

“So? What’s wrong with that?”

“ _Don’t_ do _that to me, Peter.”_

“Do what?”

In a horrible impression of Peter’s voice, Ned says, “‘ _So, what’s wrong with that?’ Of course you don’t see what’s wrong, you’re totally obsessed with her.”_

“Am not!” Spider-Man exclaims. “Dude, you’re still at school, keep it down!!”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Ned says. “ _I can’t believe you. You haven’t been at school in, like, days.”_

“Yeah, well.” Spider-Man’s eyes scan the sluggish street traffic below. “I’ve just… been busy.”

“ _Well, if you keep doing this you’re going to become a high school dropout_ ,” Ned tells him.

“He has a point, Peter,” Karen agrees.

_“You’re going to end up homeless, on the streets-”_

“You won’t be able to provide for your family-”

“ _You’re never gonna get a real job-”_

“You’re going to starve-”

“Really, Karen?! Why are you ganging up on me?” Spider-Man demands incredulously.

“ _Who the fuck is Karen_?” Ned says. _“Are you hanging out with some other girl?”_

“No, I’m not,” Spider-Man says. “I’m not. Karen’s- she’s not even real.”

“Okay, Peter,” Karen says, her voice irritated. “I can still hear you.”

“Karen, come on. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re still my friend.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Ned says. “ _Are you okay? Are you high? Do you need me to come get you?”_

“No, I’m not-” Spider-Man stops himself and sighs. “Aren’t you out of school soon?”

“ _Um.. yeah.”_ There’s a brief pause. “ _The bell’s just about to ring.”_

“Okay, then,” Spider-Man says. “There’s not really a big deal in me ditching since the school day’s over anyway. Bye, Ned, I'll see you tomorrow. Karen, end call.”

“ _Who’s Karen?!-”_

Ned’s voice cuts out.

Spider-Man heaves a breath and shifts on his spot on the streetlamp. “Bell should ring any second now,” he says to himself. “Any… second…..”

A scream cuts into the soft hum of the streets and Spider-Man’s head whips to the side. He leaps to his feet in a crouching position on the streetlamp, bending over so he can see below.

His eyes instantly flick to where there’s a swarm of people rushing away from the street. Among them, a man with gigantic metal arms is walking.

“What the hell,” Spider-Man mutters to himself, squinting.

One of the arms shoots out at lightning speed and wraps around a civilian.

Spider-Man is on the ground in an instant. “Hey, put him down!” he yells.

The villain looks up with narrowed eyes. He drops the wide-eyed civilian to the floor, who scrambles away quickly, and turns on Spider-Man.

“Seriously, where do all of you guys get your nice Halloween costumes?” Spider-Man asks. “I’m gonna have to buy myself one too.”

A metal arm lashes out at him. Spider-Man grabs it out of the air with both hands- the force makes him skid back a few feet, but he remains steadily balanced.

“What’s this thing made of?” Spider-Man mumbles, tilting his head to look at it. He digs his fingers into it using his enhanced strength, but the metal doesn’t budge. “How are you controlling it-”

His spider-sense rings. Peter jumps into the air as another tentacle sweeps at his feet.

“You’re not even using any manual controls,” Spider-Man notes. “That’s pretty awesome. If you stopped harassing innocent people you could probably use that for a much better cause, you know!”

The man makes a _growling_ noise and Spider-Man comes to the distinct conclusion that he’s nuts before two more arms come at him from either side of him. He flips backwards and shoots a web at both of the tentacle-like arms, yanking them backwards to restrain the man.

“Hey!”

Spider-Man turns with wide eyes. MJ is standing on the street. Her hair is down- it looks so pretty when it’s hanging loose around her shoulders like this, gently teased, curls framing her face. Her dark, intense gaze is fixed on him. She’s holding a book and still wearing her school bag, dressed in a black long sleeve shirt and leggings with a blue sweater tied around her waist.

She looks absolutely angelic. Peter almost drops dead on the spot. His heart rate picks up notably.

“Remember me?” MJ calls in an almost teasing tone of voice. “I’m the dog girl.”

“MJ!” Spider-Man exclaims giddily. “How could I forget you?”

He means it. He really, really means it- how could anyone ever forget her?

“Kiss her,” Karen urges, her voice soft in Spider-Man’s ear. Spider-Man blinks. “What-?!”

There’s a scream at the base of his skull and he remembers with a start that he’s supposed to be fighting a _criminal_ , god- and he turns all too late to be tackled with one of the metal arms. The tentacle snakes its way around his throat and practically _throttles_ him, yanking him up roughly by the neck.

This is probably Spider-Man’s least favorite part of the job. Villains getting the upper hand on him. Because this way, it’s a lot less fun and hurts a lot more.

Choking is one of the things that’s the most dangerous, too, the thing that probably scares him the most- because with a single flick of the wrist, a single snap of his neck-

He could be dead in seconds.

Spider-Man gasps, turning in the villain’s grasp, and manages to get two hands around the claw of the tentacle. He grapples with it for a long few moments. The grip it has on him is like steel.

Finally he manages to pry it from his throat. His neck feels like it’s been shoved entirely into a blender.

“Multiple contusions along the neck detected,” Karen informs him. “Minimal movement is advised.”

Coughing and spluttering, he flicks his wrist out and shoots a web at one of the arms, webbing it to a nearby building.

“Web grenade,” he forces out. His voice sounds as if his throat is in shreds- which it may as well possibly be- but he shoots a web and it explodes in tangles over the criminal. He works quickly, spraying webs back and forth, until the villain is completely encased in them, uselessly trapped against the side of the building.

“Who are you?” the villain hisses at him, somehow avoiding a mouthful of webs.

Peter feels bone-tired, wiped out from the exhaustion of the fight. He wants to be able to quip back, but he’s afraid his voice will fail him. Turning around, Spider-Man ignores him and decides to wait for the police to handle the nutcase.

Spider-Man drops to the floor, sitting down with his legs crossed, and lets a tired hand wrap weakly around his own throat. His fingers gently probe the skin around his neck- it’s painfully sore and probably already bruising. He winces under his mask at even the slight brush of his fingertips against the area.

“Spider-Man!”

He looks up dazedly. A team of police officers are handling the villain, shoving him into their car. One of them breaks off from the rest of them to wave down Spider-Man.

“Thank you!” he calls. “We really appreciate your work. Nice job today!”

Peter still doesn’t want to take the risk of talking, so instead he just raises his hand in a thumbs up. He watches as they roll away in the police car, then lets himself lie down flat on the street, breathing heavily.

“I advise you get home before sundown,” Karen tells him. “Your aunt would not like if you didn’t come home soon, especially if she sees the fight on the news.”

“Yup,” Peter mumbles, getting slowly to his feet.

“MJ is gone,” Karen says.

Peter swings his head around. He’d forgotten all about MJ. He looks for her in the empty street.

Sure enough, she’s nowhere to be seen. He sighs and hangs his head. So much for impressing her.

“Yup,” Peter says again, miserably. “She’s gone.”

  
-

  
As soon as Peter steps foot into his apartment, Aunt May runs to him and wraps her arms around him. He lets himself sag into her arms as she squeezes him tightly and strokes his still-masked head.

“I saw the fight on the news,” May whispers to him.

Karen makes a small, almost triumphant noise at being right. Peter yanks his mask off, not wanting to hear Karen anymore, and tosses it into his closet.

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbles as he leans back into May’s hair. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“That- that man-” May forces out. “Oh, Peter, he almost killed you…”

She draws back with a choked off breath and her hands fly to his throat. Peter cringes in pain at her touch and she visibly deflates.

“Peter,” she whispers brokenly. “Your neck…”

“It’ll heal,” he assures her. “I always heal fast.”

“It’s never fast enough,” May says with a gentle shake of her head. “I know I said you could do… do _this_ , but sometimes I just feel like such a horrible…..”

Her voice trails off, and Peter’s unsure what she was going to say. A horrible person? Aunt? Guardian?

She’s so much more than that. She’s not just his aunt, or just his guardian.

Peter makes her worry about him practically every single night. He wonders how he would be able to cope if he waited hours each day, not knowing whether _she_ was alive or not.

They stand in silence for a few long moments.

Finally, Peter says, “I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say.

She rubs her face tiredly. “I know you are,” she says.

“But if you were in my place,” Peter adds, “I know you’d do the same. You’d have to. It’s- it’s the right thing.”

His voice is unsure, because he’s unsure himself.

Is it really the right thing?

It’s funny, because one moment, he’s _so sure_ that what he’s doing is right, but every time he sees May break down like this he has to think again.

Aunt May responds by wrapping her hand around his waist and pulling him close to her. She presses a soft kiss against his head and ruffles his hair.

“You always do the right thing, Peter,” she tells him. “I know you.”

  
-

  
That night, Peter goes to the mirror to stare at himself.

His eyes instantly fall to the ugly black and blue bruises that cover his entire throat- his whole neck is visibly bruised. Like one big amoeba bruise.

It’s all part of the job, he reminds himself, but sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes he’ll stare at his scars and bruises in the mirror and wish he had a normal life, wish he wasn’t beaten and broken like this.

It may be part of the job for Spider-Man, but Peter’s the one who has to deal with the aftermath. Peter’s the one who has to stare in the mirror at his own gruesome injuries, at his ugly reflection. Peter’s the one who wakes up at 3AM with nightmares and visions of being trapped under rubble.

And Peter hates it. But it’s the _right thing._

Peter’s lost count of how many times he’s told himself that by now. Maybe if he says it enough he can fully convince himself that he’s right.

He wonders dimly to himself when he’ll ever tell MJ that he’s Spider-Man, and then thinks about how disappointed she’ll be. How could New York’s beloved hero be _this_ under the mask- reduced to nothing but a stupid, dysfunctional kid?

Peter can’t help but tell himself all of this is useless. Trying to pretend he’s something other than this. MJ is so snarky and beautiful and witty and _perfect_ , and he’s… he’s just himself.

He has to be better. He wishes he was just _better_.

He’ll have to cover up the bruises somehow when he goes to school tomorrow. His healing will make them go away faster, but tomorrow morning his neck will still be noticeably yellowed and purplish around the edges.

Peter peels his eyes away from the mirror. He’s sick of looking at his reflection. He doesn’t want to see himself anymore.

  
-

  
“What are you _wearing_?” MJ sneers. Behind her, Ned bursts into laughter.

Peter strokes the baby blue, thick knit scarf around his neck carefully.

“May made it for me,” Peter says. “It’s actually really comfortable.”

“Yeah, but _why_ are you wearing it?” Ned asks.

Peter pauses for a moment. “Because…. my neck gets cold.”

“It’s 90 degrees out,” MJ tells him, squinting at his face. Her eyes scan over him.

“Yeah, well,” Peter says quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets. His face is growing increasingly hot. “I just…. I love… scarves..!”

MJ shoots him a quizzical look, her eyebrows knitting together. “You’ve never worn a scarf before, ever.”

“How do you know that?” Ned asks, tilting his head and frowning.

MJ visibly stiffens, her eyes flashing from Ned to Peter, and she looks down. “I told you, I’m very observant,” she says.

“It’s a new fashion trend,” Peter tries. “Scarves are really in now.”

“I guess I can’t argue that,” MJ admits. “I’m not the most hip when it comes to fashion, so.”

Peter looks up when he glimpses the blur of a varsity jacket. Flash brushes by them, stopping to stare at Peter. He snickers, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” Flash laughs. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you look even more like a fag then usual!”

Peter subconsciously tugs at the hem of his scarf, looking away. He’s suddenly self-conscious of it- why did he pick this color? Why didn’t he take something less bulky? He could’ve worn a high-necked sweater or something, or….

“God, you look so gay with that scarf on, Parker,” Flash remarks.

“You’re a bitch,” MJ says matter-of-factly. Both Peter and Flash turn to stare at her with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

“And you’re stupid,” she continues. “‘Gay’ isn’t a derogatory term. Or are your brain cells so depleted that you can’t think of any other words to insult people?”

Flash gawks at her for a long few moments, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Ned hoots as soon as he’s gone. “MJ, what the fuck was that?!”

“I was using an ounce of my intelligence,” MJ says. “You two should try it every once in a while.”

“You didn’t, um-” Peter coughs awkwardly. “You didn’t have to.”

MJ stares at him for a moment, then sighs and tugs at a strand of her curly hair. “Quit making that face, you look like a kicked puppy. I wasn’t standing up for you or anything, okay? I was just defending the LGBT community.”

She turns around and walks away before Peter or Ned can say anything else. Peter is left watching her leave with a heavy scarf around his neck and a blush spreading on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all!!! thanks so much for 120+ subscribers within the first day, it means a lot to me <3 this already has so much positive feedback and it just makes my heart melt.  
> anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! ALSO! i'm taking prompts on my tumblr, so if you have any fic ideas that you'd like to see me bring to life, go for it! i need inspiration for future fics, so it'd actually be really helpful. my tumblr is too-many-bees :) you can also hit me up there if you just wanna talk !  
> alright, until next time!!!!! <3


	3. in which peter needs help but doesn't seek it

May’s hand rests on Peter’s curly head, and she strokes his hair softly. Her touch is gentle and always makes him feel like he’s home, no matter where he is.

 

“You’re going to school today, right, sweetie?” she asks, her voice low.

 

Peter doesn’t want to go to school today.

 

He doesn’t want to go to school ever, actually. 

 

But May’s expression is so careful, so pleading, and Peter hears himself say “Yes” before he can think better of it. Aunt May instantly smiles and lets her hands drop to his shoulders, and she affectionately strokes his arms up and down.

 

“Good,” she says. “You need time to be a regular kid.”

 

Peter forces himself to nod, and he sits up from his chair and grabs his backpack with one hand. “Okay, well, I’d better head off,” he says, because he doesn’t really want to think about being a regular kid. 

 

“Okay,” May says, watching him with a wistful smile and a little wave. “Have a good day at school, Peter.”

 

“Thanks, May,” he calls over his shoulder, and tears down the hall and out of the apartment building.

  
  


-

  
  


As soon as Peter steps foot off of the cramped New York bus, he feels unease settle into his gut. He swallows and stares out towards the sea of students headed towards the school gates.

 

He thinks about Flash’s car honking him out as he goes inside the building. He thinks about MJ staring at him and asking him questions that are a little too invasive. He thinks about how scared he is every second that Ned will blurt out something about Spider-Man again. He thinks about all the looks he gets when he’s walking through the hallways.

 

Peter ducks behind a bush with a heavy breath, placing a hand over his heart and curling his fingers into the fabric there. He squeezes onto the thick material of his sweater, trying to calm himself down- his heart is beating out of his chest, and he doesn’t even know why.

 

_ Calm down, Peter,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Calm down.. this is not cool, dude. You need to settle down. _

 

Peter’s breaths are starting to come in frantic gasps, so he clamps his hands over his ears and tries desperately to stop it. He wants it all to stop, but it’s like his mind and his body are two different things. 

 

Spider-Man doesn’t have to worry about things like this, about getting an anxiety attack before going to school and having to hide in a bush. 

 

He doesn’t have to go to school anymore, so why should he?

 

Peter finds himself rolling up his sleeve, where he’s already wearing his suit underneath, and he digs into his backpack to pull out his mask. He yanks it over his head and instantly Karen buzzes into his ear:

 

“Your heart rate has increased notably,” she says.

 

“I noticed,” Peter says flatly.

 

“Why are you not going to school? You told your aunt you were going to attend today.”

 

“I know,” Peter says, exhaling. “I know. I just…”

 

He yanks off his sweater and pants and shoes, shoving them into the backpack so he’s only wearing his suit. 

 

“Just what, Peter?”

 

“I can’t,” Peter says softly.

 

He webs his backpack to a tree.

 

“Peter, are you going to ditch school again?” Karen asks, her voice heavy with disappointment.

 

Peter ignores her.

 

“I know you heard me, Peter, I’m wired so that you can hear me as if I were talking in your ear-”

 

“I heard you, okay? And yes. The world needs saving, y’know?”

 

“There are no crime scenes on my radar,” Karen says. “Meaning the world doesn’t need saving as of now.”

 

“Seriously, Karen, did Mr. Stark wire you to argue with me about  _ everything _ ?”

 

“You haven’t been to school in three days, Peter,” Karen says. “Maybe now is a good time to think about going to school instead of fighting.”

 

“I’m past school, Karen,” Peter says irritably. “Can you- can you just stop bringing that up?”

 

“I think it’s important.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“That is highly debatable. I can start off the argument by pointing out that you-”

 

“Hey, shh,” Spider-Man whispers to Karen. “I hear something over there.”

 

He creeps, low to the ground, on the tips of his toes, towards the source of the sound- into a dark street alley. Spider-Man does care about justice and crime-fighting, but he’s almost elated at the fact that there was a disruption. He doesn’t want to have to listen about how he’s ditching school too often and how he’s throwing his whole future away, bla bla bla.

 

He peers into the alley. Two shadowy figures are pressed into the corner of the wall- one much larger than the other is towering over the smaller one.

 

The smaller one is visibly shaking, pressed against the wall.

 

“You want to mouth off to me again, princess?” The larger figure spits, and it takes Peter about a second to assess the situation. “Give it to me now!”

 

“Whoa, whoa, okay!” Spider-Man blurts too quickly, stepping into view. He usually takes his time to think of a few quips before stepping in, but he doesn’t like to watch these kinds of things happen. It’s wrong and makes him feel sick if he doesn’t interfere immediately. “Leave her alone!”

 

The girl looks up with a gasp and a tear-streaked face. The man’s head swivels up, and Spider-Man easily webs him to the back wall. 

 

Spider-Man approaches the girl, who’s shaking and gasping into her palms. Spider-Man doesn’t reach out to her, not wanting to startle her.

 

“Hey- hey, it’s okay,” he says. “Are you alright, Miss?”

 

“Fine, thanks to you,” she says. Surprisingly, her voice is… strong, not shaky whatsoever. All things considered. “Thank you, Spider-Man.”

 

“It’s no big deal,” he tells her. “All just part of the job.”

 

“No, really,” she says. “Thank you. Without you, we wouldn’t have gotten away with taking his bag.”

 

Spider-Man blinks as she holds up a knapsack, and nods towards the man still struggling against the webs on the wall. “Wha-?”

 

There’s a ringing in Peter’s skull, and something hard slams into the back of Peter’s head. He hits the ground and everything goes black.

  
  


-

  
  


“You appear to have a moderate concussion.”

 

Ow. The back of his head is throbbing. He winces and shifts his head slightly.

 

He opens his eyes to a finger tapping on his eye lense.

 

“How do these things even  _ work _ ? Weird.”

 

His vision blurs fast, and he nearly jumps straight into the air when he sees MJ standing over him. Her long, teased curls are tossed over her shoulder, but a few loose strands hang dangerously close to his face.

 

“Oh my god-!” Peter sputters, scrambling backwards. “What are you- what am I-”

 

He sits up, and immediately hisses in pain, when his head throbs and aches, forcing him back to the ground. His vision is swarming and blurry, but he’s able to make out the fact that he’s still lying in the alley.

 

“Why are you freaking out? It’s just me. You remember me, right? The dog girl?”

 

“It’s MJ!” Karen exclaims happily.

 

“Yeah, I- I remember-” Spider-Man winces and lifts a hand to the back of his head. A huge bump is throbbing across the base of his skull, and it  _ hurts. _ Damn it, what did they  _ do  _ to him?

 

“Are you concussed or something?” MJ asks. “Because maybe you should go to a hospital. Maybe as in definitely.”

 

“No, no. I don’t- I don’t do hospitals.”

 

“Normal people do hospitals, especially when they wake up lying in a dark alley with a head injury.”

 

“I know, but I’m not exactly normal, so.” Spider-Man glances at her. “Don’t you have school, or… something?”

 

“It’s 5:30pm right now, so not exactly.”

 

“It’s actually 5:28,” Karen says.

 

“Oh my god.” He lifts his hands to his face. “I’ve been out for  _ hours… _ !”

 

“Still don’t get why you can’t go to a hospital,” MJ says. Of course she won’t let this go. She’s extremely observant- when she’s onto something, all her questions must be answered to her satisfaction.

 

“Because I’m not a human,” Peter says. “I mean, I am, but like, not a normal human. So I don’t want them going in there and finding, y’know, not-human stuff.”

 

“But they’ll know you’re Spider-Man so it won’t matter. Everyone knows you’re part-spider or whatever.”

 

“Yes, it will matter, because then they’ll take off my mask and know who I am and put two and two together.”

 

“Right, your secret identity crisis or whatever.” MJ crosses her arms. “That’s stupid. If I was Spider-Man I’d let everyone know.”

 

“Well, you’re not me, so.” 

 

MJ cocks an eyebrow, falling silent, and stares at him. She bends down so that she’s in front of him, her face only a few inches from his.

 

Her hand lashes out. Spider-Man catches her wrist, tilts his head, frowns at her.

 

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

 

“Taking your mask off,” MJ says. “Come on, dude, a creepy old spider person with a secret identity who wears a mask like 24/7? That’s totally suspicious and potentially pedophilic.”

 

“What?!” he all but screeches. “No! No, you cannot take my mask off- what the hell-!”

 

MJ raises her eyebrows and lifts her hands up. “Okay, jeez. Don’t see what’s the big deal here.”

 

“I have it for a  _ reason _ , okay?! If- if I wanted you to know I’d show you myself…” 

 

Peter falters just a bit. MJ frowns and squints at him.

 

“What’s the reason?”

 

Spider-Man lets out a small huff of breath. He curls his knees to his chest.

 

“I just… I don’t like the person behind the mask that much, okay? And sometimes it’s better to let people see me this way than without the mask.”

 

MJ holds his gaze for a while. 

 

She sits back on her heels, still looking at him for a moment, and then stands up. She crosses her arms and looks down at him.

 

“I’ve come to a conclusion about you,” she announces.

 

Spider-Man lifts his head. “Yeah? What’s that?”

 

“For someone who seems so confident as a superhero, you’re just a loser without that mask.”

 

Spider-Man feels suddenly defensive. He watches as she turns her back to him and asks, “What does that mean?”

 

She doesn’t cast a last glance over her shoulder, but Peter can hear her as she walks away.

 

“You’re scared.” 

  
  


-

  
  


Peter looks at himself in the mirror.

 

He stares into the white lenses of his suit, at the red fabric of his mask. He sees a superhero, he sees this amazing, powerful vigilante who everyone knows and loves. He sees a person who could get any girl he wants in a heartbeat, who can do anything he wants whenever he wants.

 

Peter takes his mask off.

 

He stares into the glass and sees a nobody. He sees a broken,  _ scared _ kid. 

 

A heavy sigh of disappointment escapes him before he can help it. MJ’s right. Everyone’s right about him.

 

He’s nothing. He’s worth nothing. 

 

His eyes flicker to the side and fix on two warm brown eyes that peer at him in the doorway. He turns and sees Aunt May standing there.

 

The two of them stare at each other, and do nothing else. Peter doesn’t say anything because there’s nothing to say.

 

May doesn’t say anything either.

 

Finally, Peter forces himself to say, “I’m sorry.”

 

May’s moving forward, reaching out for him, and hugs him. Peter hugs her back, closing his eyes. His chin rests on her shoulder.

 

“For what?” she asks.

 

“For everything,” he says. “For ditching. For all of it. I’m just- I’m such a crappy nephew, y’know? I’m just… just so broken and- and so screwed up…”

 

May holds him, and it’s just like when he was little, clinging to her skirts and crying for his parents. He clings to her once again now, but he doesn’t cry.

 

He wishes he could cry. He doesn’t.

 

“I love you so much, Peter,” May tells him. “More than you could ever know.”

  
  


-

  
  


It’s true. Peter knows it’s true.

 

May loves Peter.

 

Peter doesn’t love Peter.

 

In fact, Peter’s starting to really, really not love Peter.

  
  


-

  
  


Peter sits on the roof, staring at the black night sky. He’s wearing one of Ben’s old jackets, which is way too big for him, and he clings to the sleeves of it. 

 

His mask covers his face.

 

“Are you okay?” Karen asks, her voice softer than usual.

 

Peter curls his fingers into a fist and raises his hand to his face. He bites at the hem of Ben’s jacket sleeve. 

 

“I don’t know,” he says.

 

Karen falls silent for a moment. Crickets are chirping softly into the night. Peter sighs and lets his face fall into his jacket sleeves.

 

They still smell like Ben, like lavender and soap and a hint of smoke. 

 

Peter misses him. 

 

When Ben was here, Peter was never like this.

 

“I know you’ve been off lately,” Karen says to him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“No.”

 

Peter’s voice feels empty and sounds dark.

 

“I’m sorry that I’m not human,” Karen says, and she sounds so genuinely upset that it makes Peter feel guilty about how snappy he sounded. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”

 

“It’s okay. You do really well. I’m- I’m really glad to have you with me, Karen.”

 

Peter means it.

 

They sit in silence for a few long moments, and then Karen says, “You have a text from Ned Leeds.”

  
  


-

  
  


from: ned

peter, you said you were going to meet me an hour ago in front of my house, where are you??

 

to: ned

shit i forgot im so sorrt ned in really eeally sorry ill be there in like fivr seocnds

  
  


-

  
  


Peter jumps off his perch on a rooftop and lands on his feet on the asphalt.

 

Ned leaps into the air with a strangled cry. “Oh my god _ \-  _ Peter, what the fuck?!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurts. “Seriously, Ned, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot, it just slipped my mind…”

 

“You know, I should’ve expected it,” Ned says with a heavy sigh. “You’ve flaked on me like five times in a row now.”

 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Peter says, and even he’s surprised by how snappy his voice sounds to his own ears. “I’ve just- I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately, is all, okay?”

 

“Yeah, a lot on your mind,” Ned says. “I bet you have a lot on your mind, with you obsessing over Michelle like every single second-”

 

“Shh!” Peter hisses. “Dude, we’re outside, keep it-”

 

“No,” Ned says flatly. “No, you can shut the fuck up right about now, I’m talking and I don’t give a shit.”

 

Peter swallows. 

 

His mouth snaps shut. 

 

“You’ve been completely ignoring me,” Ned tells him. “Not just me, either, you’ve been ignoring Michelle. What the fuck’s that for? You expect her to like you when you’re never around?”

 

“This was  _ your idea!”  _ Peter exclaims exasperatedly. “Dude, you were the one who told me to-”

 

“Peter, it was my idea, but I thought you’d fucking  _ tell her by now!”  _

 

Ned’s practically shouting now. Peter’s shaking with- with anger? Fear? 

 

“Well, I haven’t,” Peter says.

 

“Yeah, and I don’t have any idea why. Are you actually an idiot?”

 

“I’m not- she doesn’t- I can’t, not yet-”

 

“Why?! She won’t care whether it’s you or not!”

 

“I just- I-”

 

“Or is it something else?! Is it because you’ve realized how much fun it is to run around in your costume that you don’t have any time for your friends anymore?”

 

“No, it’s not that! Of course it’s not that, it’s- it’s just-”

 

“Then maybe you can explain why you  _ really _ haven’t been to school in three days?!” Ned demands. “That’s not okay, Peter! You’re ruining your own life! Is it seriously all because of her?”

 

Peter stumbles back. He puts a hand on the wall of the porch, the other fisting in his jacket.

 

“It’s- I can’t…” Peter blinks, wets his lips, swallows. Blood is pounding in his ears. Everything feels slowed down, muted, like he’s submerged underwater. “I have to be good enough for her-... she won’t like me otherwise-”

 

“Is that really why?” Ned asks, his eyes wide. “Seriously? Is that what you think?”

 

“I’m not good enough,” Peter says again, slower this time. Like he’s trying to tell it to himself for the hundredth time, like he’s explaining it to himself and  _ convincing _ himself he’s right.

 

“Who gives a fuck whether she likes you or not, Peter?” Ned asks coolly.

 

Peter looks up. Ned is staring at him very seriously, dead on, his eyes steely.

 

Peter swallows. “I-”

 

“I have a feeling she’s not the only reason why,” Ned says. “There’s someone else- something else you’re afraid of, isn’t there?”

 

He’s afraid. 

 

That’s it.

 

And Peter’s knees-

 

His knees give out on him-

 

And Peter backs up, as if trying to escape, but he his back hits the wall and he falls to the floor helplessly and clasps two hands over his ears. He takes a deep breath and it makes this awful wailing sound that resonates within the room even after he’s stopped, and it makes the air hitch in his lungs and everything hurts so badly.

 

He wishes everything would disappear. He wishes he could disappear. Maybe if he curls into himself and makes himself as small as possible, he can just vanish into thin air and he won’t have to deal with… with this.

 

“I need to be better,” Peter whispers harshly to himself and curls his knees to his chest. He tells himself this every single day, countless times, but he’ll do it again and again until he gets it right. “I need- I need to-”

 

“Peter,” Ned says urgently. “Oh my god- Peter, hey, look at me.”

 

Peter shakes his head, no. He doesn’t want to look, he can’t look at Ned, not now. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels tears pricking at his eyes.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

“I- I don’t know,” Peter says hoarsely, rubbing furiously at his tears.

 

Ned is cradling Peter’s knees in his own hands, leaning forward. His dark eyes are forgiving. 

 

Peter’s breath hitches and he flinches away from Ned- this is absolutely humiliating. He’s completely breaking down in front of his best friend. He’d be embarrassed even if he was by himself. He’s useless, he’s so embarrassing, he can’t handle anything on his own-

 

“Peter,” Ned says. “You don’t have to be better for anyone. Everybody likes you just the way you are.”

 

“No,” Peter says. “No. No, they don’t… MJ knows I’m a loser, Flash and everyone else at school hate me… I make May stressed out and I make her cry every day- I let Uncle- I let Uncle Ben  _ die,  _ he’s  _ gone  _ because I wasn’t good enough, and Mr. Stark, he- he  _ told  _ me that I  _ need to be better-” _

 

He’s grinding the words out now, and they’re not stopping. Each one aches and makes him hurt even more as he unravels his own truth to himself.

 

“And you said it yourself,” Peter says miserably. “You said so, too. That nobody wants me to be  _ me.” _

 

“Peter, I didn’t mean any of that, I was just joking. I had no idea you were going through any of this. I would never do anything to hurt you. You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

 

Peter looks up. Ned’s expression is so carefully knit, so delicate-looking that Peter thinks Ned might just shatter like glass in a second. Peter nods. He believes it.

 

“You don’t have to become Spider-Man to hide from yourself, Peter,” Ned tells him, and it sounds so  _ obvious,  _ as if Ned’s telling him “you have to breathe to live”. The matter-of-fact tone in Ned’s voice makes Peter’s heart wrench.

 

“Peter, you  _ are  _ Spider-Man. That’s what makes you  _ you.  _ That’s why you’re my best friend.”

 

Peter is only dimly aware of himself being wrapped into a warm, inviting hug. It feels so natural, like he was meant to stay here in Ned’s arms, and he lets himself sink forward, burying his face in Ned’s shoulder.

 

“I try so  _ hard  _ to be the person everyone wants me to be,” Peter forces out. 

 

“You  _ are,”  _ Ned tells him, his voice gentle yet stubborn. “You are everything anyone’s ever asked for. You’re everything and more.”

 

Peter chokes on a sob. His face is hot and streaked with tears. 

 

For a second, he lets himself forget about MJ, and about May- he lets himself forget about Mr. Stark and everybody else- he lets himself forget about the guilt that weighs on him every time he wakes up that  _ he killed Uncle Ben- _ he lets himself forget about the nightmares and the bruises and the insecurities and the failures, forget about the fear and the pain- 

 

He even lets himself forget about Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

 

He’s neither of them and he’s both of them. He’s himself.

 

He cries.

 

The only thing he knows is Ned’s hand stroking his back. Everything else is gone. 

 

And that’s okay. That’s enough.

 

He’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for reading!!! sorry for not updating in a while hahaha  
> next chapter's probably going to be the last. let me know what you thought of this chapter and have a good day! xx

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all comments make me the happiest person on earth and subs make me even happier!! i hope you enjoyed reading this first chapter :) this is probably going to be kept relatively short, like 3-5 chapters at most. thanks for reading!
> 
> my tumblr is too-many-bees. if you have any questions or just wanna talk, hmu!


End file.
